I finally gave in. Yep. Girl Child is now the proud owner of her very first instagram account. Seeing as she’s in seventh grade, SubHub and I second guessed ourselves on this one quite a bit.

And So It Begins

Instagram? We’re in new parenting territory. I made the decision when I started blogging in 2007 that I would share Girl Child’s story, including pictures. Oh, how naïve and cute that was. I think in the years following, many parents and an entire generation of kids have learned that a picture is worth a million reshares, whether you want it to get reshared or not. Once she was old enough, I let her read all the posts related to her and her experience on the Submommy blog. I took out anything that didn’t sit well with her. Since many of the posts are about her life, I wanted to make sure she felt she has a say in what gets discussed online. There have been times when she has asked, “Don’t share this, ok?” and other times when I have asked her permission to share something. We’ve established an ongoing dialogue as she grows up in the age of the Overshare.

This is one of those moments I feel it was a lucky twist of fate that I got into blogging and social media when I did. So, when the inevitable happened and she asked for an account, I was ready. As ready as I guess a parent ever really can be.

My First Instagram Account: The Rules

Here’s where I cop to being an extremely strict parent. I’ve been paying attention all these years to what gets shared, what makes viral headlines, and what just counts as obnoxious behavior from kids whose pre-frontal cortex needs some work that only growing up and life experience can make happen. A friend of mine says, “Kids run ’til they find the fence.” For Girl Child, the social media fence is close to the house where everyone can see it. These were the rules we agreed on:

Her account is private. Anyone sees her profile has to request to follow her.

She cannot let anyone follow her that she does not know in real life.

Conversely, she cannot request to follow anyone she does not know in real life.

Her older female cousins have to be her followers also. They are 15 and 18 years old, and have experience.

For the time being, she asks permission of me to post a picture. This is a double-check I hope to instill in her. I want her to ask herself if this is a good idea.

If she wants to leave a comment on someone’s picture, we talk about what’s appropriate and what isn’t, including the use of hashtags.

She cannot reshare other people’s photos if they have private accounts.

As you can see, her first Instagram account is tightly controlled. It’s also working. She is reserved socially at school, and this is afforded her an opportunity to share pieces of her personality that she’s too shy to let shine in big noisy groups. Her school acquaintances have found her and requested to follow her, and she is following back. It’s opening up new possibilities for her as she starts to consider what she thinks is “share-worthy” about her and her life.

The rule that she has to show me what pictures she wants to post has come in handy, too. She brought a picture to me that she wasn’t sure of. It was selfie she took where she had face paint on. This led to a very productive conversation about “What if this gets shared by people? How would you feel about that?” She decided against it.

In talking about this entire thing, we also had to prepare her for the potential for hurt feelings. Her friends may post pictures of things that they have done together, and she wasn’t invited to join. This can hurt, even if you’re an adult. In internet-speak, people have abbreviated this phenomenon to FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out. And it happened. She WAS hurt, but took it in stride, didn’t make any comments on the picture, and moved on.

Maturity vs. Sophistication

I’m trying to help her build a pause button before she hits send. I see parents everywhere mistake sophistication for maturity, and I can’t help but wonder if it leaves the child confused, or with a false sense of their perceived importance. We all know that adolescence is when we, as humans, are the most inward focused. I’m doing my darndest to make certain her sense of importance comes from real maturity, not just the illusion of it.

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Mood Swings. The Bain Of Our Existence.

Ah, mood swings. A female rite of passage. One minute you’re fine, the next minute, you’re bawling for no apparent reason. It feels weird to be crying for no reason, so you make one up. That way you appear less insane.

This happened a few mornings ago. She poured herself some cereal without realizing I had poured a bowl for her already.

Burst into tears. ?

So we had a conversation about the whole thing when she had calmed down a little:

Girl: “Has this ever happened to you?”

Me: Absolutely.

Girl: WHY? THIS IS AWFUL!

Me: Yep. Can’t lie about that. It stinks.

Girl: When did you have mood swings?

Me: When I was your age, and then at the end of my pregnancy with you. I remember the most ridiculous things would upset me. I swear, I would drop my pen on the ground or something stupid like that, and start crying because it was hard to pick up. My belly was in the way and it would send me over the edge. Your poor dad didn’t know what to do.

Girl: What did you do?

Me: Rode it out. It’s just a feeling. You don’t have to attach it to anything. When you feel that stress coming on, and you want to cry, go ahead. Just know the feeling doesn’t need a permanent home with some vague issue that’s not really an issue. It took me practically a lifetime to learn that. Feelings don’t need to latch themselves on to anything.

Girl: Ok. (*sniffle)

Remember ladies – feels can be bullshit. Don’t attach a random feeling to a vague thought and make it bigger than it needs to be. It will pass, and then your logical brain can come back online and make sense of it all.

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“Media Literacy” is a buzz term around OpEd pieces that discuss the raising of girls. I’ve been watching and learning about it for a few years now, lying in wait for the day that Girl Child begins to turn inward and worry about things like her looks, what she’s wearing, when she’ll be developing, etc. I want very much to make sure that she’s guided through the gigantic maze of body image issues. I had plenty myself, and looking back, I was FINE. Better than fine. Pretty, even. I’m hoping to spare her the same self-torture by educating her on what’s real, and what’s unequivocally NOT real.

Girls and women are assaulted on the daily with what I call “Girl Mud Flap” body:

image: Nil Failstorm

What’s so insidious about trying to make this body type come to life is it’s not even real or attainable, yet it’s presented that way through manipulation. So, here are two videos I’ve shown Girl Child recently giving her a bird’s eye view of what really goes on after the pictures are taken, and how it can affect a woman’s body image.

Talking About Body Image

Love your body, ladies. Not so much for what it looks like, but what it can do, be, and endure.

And then here is the one I showed her where four perfectly lovely women were photographed and subsequently given The Photoshop Treatment. Watch their reactions to the changes made and how it may affect their body image going forward. (For the better!) Suddenly who they ARE crystallizes.

I am hopeful that because she was born with an imperfection and now has scars (which I tell her, “scars are stories.”) that she embrace all she’s been through, and realizes life is too short to not accept who you are inside and out. We are all so much more than the size of our breasts and what the tag says in our jeans. My hope is to guide her through these years and help her see herself as a whole entity, not simply the sum of her parts that she has compared to an impossible standard. One of the keys to this is being aware of how I talk about myself and my own body. I’m ok. So are you, and so is your daughter.

Increasingly, studies are showing that dating violence happens to 1 in 10 girls when they are in high school. HIGH SCHOOL. Ugh. Efforts are being made to introduce the subject earlier, before dating truly begins. You know, middle school. Where Girl Child is right now. I don’t think I’m quite ready to show her this video, and I don’t think she’s quite ready to see it, but I think it’s worth putting out in the world and sharing it. I believe both girls AND boys should watch when they are ready to take it in.

Ingrid Bergman in ‘Gas Light.’ Where we got the term gaslighting

I can even see, at this stage in her young life, some of her peers shaping themselves with a scary dynamic when it comes to these early stages of dating.

No one should lay a harmful hand on you, gaslight you, isolate you, or make you feel like you’re the only person who can save them from themselves. You will not die without them. They will not die without you.

Take the time to watch this, please. I think it’s one of the most important TED talks ever given.

Leslie Morgan Steiner on Dating Violence

Dating violence wasn’t anything I considered growing up. My parents said, “don’t let anyone hit you. Ever.” And while that’s excellent advice, it’s not enough anymore. From the first emotional manipulation to revenge porn and all that modern technology can bring, the conversation has evolved and our conversations as parents need to evolve with it.

Getting hit is the most obvious form of abuse, but the abuse begins long before the first fist is thrown. Arming our kids with the skills they need to navigate healthy dating relationships is not only a good idea, it’s necessary.

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[fusion_text]Girl Child has reached an age where her emotional and mental maturity are starting to come together. And then you know what happens? Hormones. That’s what.

We are keeping an eye on what we think she is ready to hear and know about, and what she isn’t. This is harder than it sounds. We’re pretty open with her about all things human, but parsing out complicated details as we think she’s able to process them is a balancing act. She’s in the world. We want to help keep her innocence but not her naiveté.

Parenting is hard.

Growing Up Girl Child

So, I’m starting a little series on this blog to help me: Growing Up Girl Child. I’m combing around the internet looking or sites and videos that I post here, and will hopefully serve as a reference of sorts for her (and possibly anyone who stumbles on this blog) that she can utilize.

First up: “When Should I Start Dating?”

I’m going to let the good kids at Blimey Cow help out with this one. Blimey Cow is composed of two brothers and their friends (one brother is married, so she is part of the fun, too.) They post videos weekly on a variety of topics that are great for young people. They’re pretty good for older people too, because let’s face it, I need all the help I can get with this little project.

Visit their sponsor, while you’re at it, so they don’t send me a cease and desist order for sharing the video: Audible.com.

Stay tuned for more tween growing up fun. When she asks me tough questions, like, “Mom? Why did Adolf Hitler kill people?” Or, “Mom? I don’t understand what’s going on with me. Why do I feel like THIS?” I can actually come up with a half-way decent answer. Maybe. Hopefully.

Parenting is hard.[/fusion_text]

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I think humans are bombarded with images and information all day every day. So much so, it’s really tough to filter what’s worth reading, and what you can safely ignore without any negative repercussions. I’m here to help.

Girls Who Steal – Most of us have been around these women. It’s not just your favorite lipstick that suddenly disappears. It’s the backhanded compliment intended to steal your joy, your accomplishments, and your sense of self. “Jellyfishing.”

Watch:

Netflix is streaming this great four-part series called “The Men Who Built America” about Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie, Morgan and Ford. We’ve actually watched it as a family and it’s garnered some really great discussions about capitalism, economy, innovation, greed, unions, and how industrialization changed life in America. We’re a little nerdy like that. The kids are in 2nd and 7th grade, and there have been very few scenes that needed explaining for either of them.

The brains behind Crash Course have launched Crash Course Kids on YouTube. It debuted with “Gotta Eat!” Quick, easily digested (yes, pun totally and completely intended) science lessons. I believe the scope will eventually include other topics as well. A long way from Minecraft pop music parodies. Thank God.

Listen:

Banks, Beggin’ For Thread:

Ignore:

Kim Kardashian’s blonde hair. Don’t give a shit. Neither should you. And because her image has likely clogged the crap out of your feeds for the last 24 hours, I won’t link to it.

You’re welcome.

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My story, chapter two.

Thank you for following me here. There is still much to be done at my new site, so excuse my construction dust, but I hope you will stick with me as I build a new blog home with a new look. Times have changed. It was time for my blog to change, too. I still want to write and share, but felt like the old Submommy blog was tired, and kinda messy. It was a burden instead of a joy. Time for a clean slate.

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Twenty-five years ago this month, I was getting ready to pack up my parent’s car with all of my belongings and start college. I was bursting with the desire to leave what I had always known and find the yet to find.

That was when all of my belongings fit in the back of a 80’s model station wagon.

They don’t anymore, in case you were wondering.

I thought I was completely ready to leave my suburban nest and handle it all on my own. I couldn’t wait to make decisions for myself, like I had always wanted. I had a voice, thoughts in my head, words on the tip of my pen, expectations high, and independence was within my grasp.

I was a fool.

My first three years of college were filled with loneliness, homesickness, bad boyfriends, confusion, dumb decisions and a dawning realization that maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was. I got to 21 and was already tired. I was unsure of who I had been, who I had become, and if all the missteps along the way had damaged me permanently.

Half way through my junior year I moved into my first apartment by myself, with the help of my parents. It was a complete dump, like most first apartments are. I remember standing in my dingy little kitchen, with the plugs on the opposite side of where you actually needed them, wondering what I should do next. My parents had left. My soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was in graduate school in Chicago and I knew that our relationship was in serious trouble. I was alone. It was completely quiet.

The only thing I could think of to do at that moment was to make myself lunch. I walked up to the corner grocery store and bought myself food for my first meal in my first big-girl apartment. Just me, no roommates, no one to navigate around except myself. I made grilled cheese and tomato soup.

It was far and away the best meal I had ever had. This was what real independence felt like. It felt like standing up in the face of an unsteady future and putting one foot in front of the other. It felt like straightening the road in front of me and choosing the direction instead of letting the direction choose me. It felt like growing up.

It tasted like grilled cheese and tomato soup.

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I always read about helicopter parenting, and the extremes that some parents will go to make sure their kids never experience anything negative. I can’t relate. A few years ago, I read a guest post on Free Range Kids that was one mother’s lament that her daughter would not enjoy the same freedoms that she had as a child.

Then, this morning, I read this post on Free Range Kids, and I remembered this post I wrote in 2011. I’ve edited it and am sharing it again.

I stand by my original freedoms. I see more risk in trying to cloister and protect than letting go a little and allowing your children get a taste of independence.

Five Freedoms We Make Certain Our Kids Have:

1. Recess – During school, the kids get two or three recesses per day. If I can get them to school on time, they can have a short one before school begins, so that makes FOUR. Rain or shine, the children are outside; running, climbing, swinging, making up wild games like “Lava Monster” and playing.

2. Getting Hurt – Girl Child got a blister on her hand from all her monkey bar climbing, and it popped and bled at school. She told the duty teacher, went to the office, got a bandaid, and went right back out for the remainder of her recess. No forms, no injury reports, no inquisition, no phone call home….dealt with, done. Boy Child bonked his nose on the handle bars of his bike, bled all over the place, and we somehow managed to NOT sue the bike manufacturer. Kids fall down. They get hurt. 99.9999999999% of the time they come out of it with a good story. I’ve told Girl Child: scars are stories. So are small owies.

3. Playing outside – Playing inside – When the kids gets home from school, they are allowed to get a snack and rest their brains, and then allowed to go outside and play. They ride their bikes, run around, play with our neighbor’s children, and I stay inside making dinner or folding laundry or taking a deep breath. I don’t hover. They know their neighborhood boundaries. When they are at school, they are doing hands-on activities with computers, going on Urban Walking Tours; they are raising salmon eggs and watching them hatch, they go on trail walks in the pouring down rain….no one is having a hissy fit about this. No one.

4. Activities – The SubKids have lots of things they wants to try. We are incredibly fortunate that we are able to give them the luxury of test-driving several activities. That said, the kid’s activities this last school year were Mondays, Thursdays and Saturday mornings. They are not all afternoon/evening, every day. I’m perfectly fine with my kids NOT being Olympians before they’re 15, or a musical/dance/sports/blah blah blah protegé before they’re in high school. Somewhere along the line we’ve all bought into the myth that unless we keep them “busy” they will get in trouble. I wasn’t busy constantly. SubHub wasn’t. No one else that I knew was, and yet here we are, fully functioning human beings who learned as we grew. Not an Olympian in the bunch. My ego isn’t driving my children’s activities.

5. Long summer days with hours spent outside – There are days in the summer where I hardly see either one of my kids. They’re outside, playing with the neighbor’s kids, having water fights, riding their bikes, occasionally coming in to ask for snacks, something to drink, a towel, etc. The door is open, the neighbor’s windows are open so we can all hear what’s going on, and good times are being had, memories are being made, freedom is being tasted.

Bumper Car Joy

Things aren’t as horrific EVERYWHERE as the media would have you believe. A reality check is in order. Walking out the door isn’t an invitation for your children to be harmed. We harm them more when we try to account for every possible danger and keep them from experiencing life.

Note: no heads or necks were harmed in the making of the bumper car ride shown above.

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I have been saved by exercise over and over again. Depression knocks at my door, and one of the ways I’ve learned to keep it outside is exercise. Particularly running. I get into my own head with good music and all the awful stays away, at least for a little while.

I’ve had ups and downs with it over the years, injuries, bronchitis-induced asthma, and chronic foot aches and pains.

The foot pain has been hanging on for a few years now, making running difficult sometimes.

If I can do this, so can you. I will run until I can’t. And when I can’t, I’ll figure out another way to get moving. Being able to play with my kids without getting winded means that much to me. I’m running for my life. I’m running to keep the bad at bay. I’m running to refill my glass.

I’m running for them. They deserve a wife and mother who feels strong and able. That’s what running gives me. I ran in my first 5k in several years yesterday, and it felt fantastic. I can’t wait for the next one.

Most of the time I’m not actually dressed in a green tutu. I break that out for special occasions.